


Protection

by 1ittleblackdress



Category: Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom, tw - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1ittleblackdress/pseuds/1ittleblackdress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Tumblr: </p><p>Sterek AU: Bodyguard: Ex-special ops agent Derek Hale was looking forward to an easy gig working the White House security detail. Instead he gets saddled with the president’s reckless teenage son who has zero regard for his own personal safety and can’t seem to stay out of trouble long enough to give Derek a day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 4 Minutes

Derek Hale was an ex-special ops agent. He'd worked as an agent for 5 years, starting when he was only 20 years old. Fired for having an affair with his boss, he's been working in the security detail for the past 6 months.  
"So, what's your next job?" Bobby said, weaving in and out of the way of his co-workers, trying to keep up with Derek's stride. "White House. They haven't told me, specifically, what yet. But I'm hoping it'll be Michelle Obama or someone. Maybe Barack himself, who knows." He answered, seemingly distracted. He walked faster than everyone else, practically running up the stairs, leaving Bobby trailing behind. "Derek, wait!" Derek stopped and sighed, waiting for Bobby's shorter legs to catch up with him. "Dude, you have to stop using that old special ops training shit whenever you feel like it. Seriously man, it feels like I'm running a marathon when I walk with you." Bobby whined, slightly out of breath. They walked at a slower pace until they reached their office. Walking in, Judy, their boss, gave them both hugs. Judy was a nice, older lady. Probably about 55. Everyone in the security detail loved her. "Darling Derek, I'm here to give you a run down on your role at the White House." She said sitting down on Bobby's comfy spinning chair. Bobby sighed quietly before leaning against the wall. "Upon arrival they'll escort you to a room in the white house where you'll be living for the next week. It will more than likely be of a nice size, being in the home of the President and all. Then you'll have your opportunity to meet Barack and Michelle and all the important people, including their dear friend John Stilinski. See, the President and his Wife are going on a trip to England for a council with David Cameron or some bullshit like that. Whilst they're away you'll be protecting John's son, Stiles. Weird name, I know. Recently he's been facing threats in the social media that Daddy John and Uncle Obama are nervous about. He's 21, sarcastic and apparently quite irritating. Try not to fuck him." She smiled pleasantly, leaving Derek to clear his desk. Bobby fell into his seat with a sound of relief. "My feet were killllling me." He laughed, taking a swig from the water bottle in his bag. "Sucks you're not protecting anyone important." He added. Derek shrugged, slipping any important files into a briefcase. Derek didn't really care about not protecting Obama, he was just anticipating spending a week in the White House. "It's fine, I'm getting 500 grand for a week of lounging around in the White House." He grinned.  
"That's going on the assumption that this Stiles kid won't want to leave." Bobby said, looking smug.  
"Shut your mouth, asshole. If he's getting death threats I'm pretty sure he's not going to want to leave. Stop killing my vibe." He jumped up, heading for the door. "Have fun waving at the President." Bobby laughed, saying goodbye in his own way. Derek gave him a middle finger before shutting the door. 

"Peter, oh my god no. I can't do that. Like, seriously. No." Derek said down the phone, half laughing half annoyed.  
"It's not too much to ask if you get a spare moment. Please, Nephew of mine."  
"I'm probably only going to shake his hand, nevermind have time to ask if my creepy Uncle doesn't have to pay taxes ever again. No. Anyway, tell Cora I said hi. I'll see you next Monday when I'll spill all the beans on the highly confidential American government."  
"Screw you, Derek. But goodbye for now." Derek rolled his eyes at Peter's question. Cracking his neck he threw his phone down to the floor and stepped in the boiling hot shower. One of the few things Derek doesn't admit to people is that he is always on alert. Always on edge. He can't stop himself from constantly being tense and nervous. It was his old training, he assumed. So showers were his 'happy place', because the water, that was always unbearably hot, relaxed his muscles. Derek slid down the wall until he was sat on the shower floor. Letting the water fall on his shoulders he thought about his life. When he was younger, his family knew he was gifted. At the age of 6 he had memorized the periodic table, by 9 he was pretty much fluent in Italian. So it wasn't really a surprise when he was picked up for those talents and shoved in special ops training. From then on it was just tasks and tasks he had to perform. His boss, a red haired girl name Lydia, was a way of making him enjoy coming to work. He was out of his mind in stress and wanted a way for it to not seem all that bad. Lydia's skirts and long hair made for an easy get out of jail free card. Until 'the jackass' Brett found out about them and filed a report. Two days later Derek was unemployed and alone. Peter managed to wing him in with a contact in the security detail, and from then he'd had small jobs like music artists and actors and stuff.  
Once Derek had managed to force himself out of the shower, he flopped into bed straight away. No clothes, wet hair, and tired. His bags were by the door ready for the morning and he'd even prepared a bowl and a spoon for breakfast. 

 

"Son? Wake up. I leave in about an hour." John's voice said quietly.  
"If you're trying to wake me up, why are you speaking so softly? Give me an extra five minutes though, Dad. You're killing me here." Stiles moaned into his pillow.  
"Fine. But if you're not up in four minutes and 52 seconds I will send your new security guy up here to drag you out of this bed himself. His name's Derek, by the way. He's 25. And intimidating."  
"I literally could not care less, leave me to my five minutes."  
"Four minutes." John corrected. Stiles just replied with a groan. What seemed like seconds to Stiles passed and his door swung open. "Dad, it's been like a min-"  
"Not Dad." Derek interrupted raising his eyebrow. Stiles whipped round to face him. "Personal space invasion alert." Stiles sighed, brushing his hair away from his face. Derek strode over to the end of the bed. "You gonna make me literally drag you out?" He asked with a bored face.  
"You can try." Stiles grinned. Derek groaned, throwing the covers off of him. Stiles yelped sarcastically and wriggled his toes. He threw his arm across his face and wept dramatically. Derek mumbled a bunch of swear words to himself and sulked out of the door, leaving Stiles laughing to himself.


	2. Coffee

"I'm up, grumpy psychopath." Stiles said with a cheesy grin as wide as his face. Now he was fully awake he took a good look at the tall, dark haired security man. He was at least 6 foot, stupidly well built, with dark stubble and piercing blue eyes. Wearing just a short sleeved black tshirt, jeans and laced up boots, he looked pretty hot. When Stiles' eyes finally returned to Derek's face, he was glaring at him.  
"Now, Son, I get you're 21 and legally an adult but you still act like a 6 year old. Try not to do that over this week, remember you're still under threat from the public." John said pulling his son in for a one armed hug.   
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed." Stiles said sarcastically, returning the hug. Barack came up behind the two and gave Stiles a quick pat on the back. "Don't ruin this place whilst I'm gone." He joked. Stiles snorted and gave him a pat on the back too. "Thank you, again. We will be back on Sunday at 7pm, tell your Uncle I said I'll see what I can do about the taxes." He laughed, shaking Derek's hand. Derek smiled awkwardly and mumbled some thank you's. Some last goodbyes were exchanged and finally Stiles was left alone with Derek and 254 other people. "I'm going out for a bit." He yawned, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his arms.   
"Uh, where? I have to come with you if you're leaving the building, you know." Derek said grabbing his arm. He looked quite skinny but his arm was hard, clearly he was stronger than he looked. After Derek was done touching up Stiles' arm he focused back on his face, that was currently smirking smugly. "I uh, I have to come with you. If you're leaving." He said clearing his throat.   
"I'm going to a strip club." Stiles said trying to keep a straight face. Derek just sighed and raised an eyebrow. Judy said he was meant to be irritating but so far he'd been the biggest pain in the ass; and he'd been here half an hour. Admittedly he was more attractive than Derek expected him to be, but his irritating personality was enough to kill off any appeal. "I'm kidding. I'm going to see my friend Scott. If you're coming you're driving." Stiles negotiated. Derek groaned with a pained look on his face. 

The drive to Scott's was full of Stiles' annoying remarks and sarcasm, and Derek's huffing and puffing. By the time the 10 minute journey was up Derek was ready to claw his eyes out. "Derek man, you've gotta lighten up a bit. Don't be so sour." Stiles laughed. Derek ignored the comment and followed him into the large, modern house. "Dude! Hey man." A well built, tanned guy about the same age as Stiles said with a big grin, scruffing Stiles' hair up. "Meet Derek Hale. My security guard. He's miserable and mean." Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles and stood awkwardly in the door way.   
"Nice to meet you, Derek." Scott said, trying to ease the tension.   
"See, look. That's how you meet people, Stiles. You don't do the shit you pull." Derek said with dramatic hand gestures. Stiles snorted.  
"Yeah, cause you're the best role model for sociability."  
"Oh my god, literally just shut up. Just shut the fuck up."  
"See? This is why I call you miserable and mean!" Stiles laughed. Scott was struggling to keep a serious face but his quivering lip and red cheeks said otherwise. Stiles knew exactly how to wind up Derek and wanted to do it every chance he had. Eventually he'd get too stressed and let Stiles go to places alone. "C'mon, leave him alone." Scott said with one last laugh. "Anyways, I thought it would be too dangerous to go out? You know, with all the death threats and stuff." He added. Stiles just shrugged, snatching and eating the sandwich Scott was holding. "That's kind of why I'm here." Derek interjected. Scott nodded and walked into another room. Stiles followed and therefore so did Derek. Like a puppy, for fucks sake Derek thought. The kitchen was a huge white room, with marble floor and black surfaces. There was an older, foreign lady shoving clothes from a basket into a washing machine. She looked up and smiled, showing her stained teeth. Scott asked something about wanting coffee but Derek had heard a noise from upstairs. He immediately moved his hand towards the gun under his belt and looked at the stairs. "Derek!" Stiles voice distracted him. Derek whipped his head round with an angry look on his face.   
"What?"  
"It's just my friend, Malia. Not an assassin or anything. Calm down, Mr Strong." On que, a small woman with dirty blonde hair and tanned skin came jogging down the stairs. She was just in knee length socks, gym shorts, a sports bra and a jacket, showing off her impressive abs. She strode past Derek and Stiles with confidence and headed straight for the old lady. "Have you seen my running shoes?" She asked sounding almost pissed off, but not quite, more like she didn't know how to sound nicer. "Oh, no miss Malia, I try look for them now?" The woman said sounding nervous.   
"That would be pointless, you're old, I can look twice as fast." Malia said like it was obvious with a raised eyebrow. It was obvious, but she didn't understand that that was rude. She huffed and turned around to face the men. "Who are you?" She asked.   
"Derek Hale. Stiles' security guard."   
"Stiles has a security guard now? Shit. Didn't realize it was that bad."   
"Yeah well I can take care of myself-" Stiles interrupted. Derek snorted. "Alright, just cause you're stronger." Stiles mumbled.   
"Alright losers. I'm gonna go punch a boxing bag in my socks some more." Malia said uninterested in the mini argument, taking long strides past them and jogging back up the stairs.   
"She seems nice." Derek said sarcastically.   
"She practically raised herself. Her Mom and little Sister died in a car accident so her Dad looked after her, except he turned into an alcoholic from grief. She doesn't know any better." Scott said, shoving a coffee at Derek's face.   
"Oh, sorry, I don't drink coffee."   
"Seriously dude? He literally asked you if you wanted coffee." Stiles said with an annoyed look.   
"Oh, well excuse me for looking out for your safety."   
"I can do it on my own. I don't need you."   
"Don't even start, Stiles."   
"Oh my god would you please stop bickering like a married couple. Fucking hell." Scott said pouring the coffee into the sink. Stiles and Derek both simultaneously crossed their arms and sighed. That seemed to piss Stiles off even more so he grabbed his glass of water and pretended to slip, spilling the water all down Derek's shirt. "Oops." He smirked. Derek literally growled and stormed out of the car to change his shirt.   
"He's hot." Scott laughed quietly. Stiles pulled a face and shook his head.   
"If you're into the intimidating black hair blue eyes kinda thing."  
"Which you are."  
"I think you meant 'which you are not'."  
"Stiles, your last girlfriend had jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, and bossed you around all the time!"   
"Yeah but she wasn't miserable all the time."   
"Whatever, dude. I'm telling you, you're gonna end up riding that dick like a fucking cowboy." Scott laughed. Derek strolled in and grabbed Stiles by the arm.   
"We're leaving, I don't have another shirt. I have hundreds of guns but not a spare shirt, fuck." Derek complained, mostly to himself.   
"Guns on your body or guns in the car." Stiles said, firstly laughing once but gradually getting louder until he was laughing hysterically. "I'm literally the funniest person I've ever met. Discluding you, Rosalinda." He grinned, giving a wink to the lady who was washing up. Derek shoved him until he was practically stumbling out the door and down the path. He fell in the car, still laughing. Derek stood outside his door, peeled his shirt off then sat in his seat next to Stiles. Stiles' laughter immediately cut off and he cleared his throat, staring out the window. Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at him he repeated over and over in his mind. Despite the constant nagging his head still managed to twist over to look. His muscles were on show and his skin was shiny from the water. The engine roaring to life brought Stiles back to reality as he shook his head and stared out of the window again.

The journey back was a lot quieter. Derek presumed his shirtlessness made Stiles uncomfortable, which was the aim. However, the silence came at a price and all of a sudden Stiles was back to being a hyperactive spaz. He jumped out of the car and ran to a bridge that was about 10ft high, a deep pond underneath it. "I've always wanted to do this!" He yelled. Derek knew immediately what he was going to do so ran at him. "Stiles, you'll break your le-" but it was too late. He'd already jumped and was splashing about in the water. He didn't cry out which signaled he wasn't in pain. Instead he was chuckling away to himself, floating on top of the water. "I fucking hate you." Derek groaned, pulling him out of the water by his arms. Stiles made no effort to stand up though, and just lay on the ground. Derek was forced to pick him up as he dramatically put his hand on his forehead and pretended to go limp in his arms. "Never let go, Jack." He said in a mocking women's British accent. The tourists around them were laughing at the scene, and the more important people with jobs at the White House looked slightly irritated, although unsurprised. 

The rest of the day was full of even more stunts from Stiles and even more depressed groans from Derek. By the time it was 1AM and Stiles finally wanted to go to bed, Derek was exhausted. He felt like a Mother. Standing by the door of Stiles' room, his heart panged. In a twisted way, this was kind of what he missed out on. A Mother who was with him all day, looking after and caring for him. He didn't have anyone to tell him goodnight or save him from danger. And then he pitied Stiles, because neither did he. 

Half way through the night, Derek's eyes snapped open to the sound of his bedroom door closing. Nobody was in the room which meant they'd left, coming in through the window that was as expected, open.


	3. The Argents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit more serious than the others. I just wanted to put a bit of action in it, it is an action plot after all.

Immediately jumping out of bed Derek threw on a pair of fitted black cargo pants and a white tank top. He grabbed his handgun that he kept under his bed and slowly opened the door and peered outside. It was all clear, the usual sound of busy men at work in the distance. He silently cursed the marble floor that clicked every time his boots touched ground. His heartbeat increased at the thought of Stiles being held at gunpoint or something. He can't fail this job on the first day. Running as quietly as he could, he checked each room. All were empty. Stiles' room was opposite him in no time. With his adrenaline rushing through the roof, he pushed the door that was already slightly cracked open. The bed was empty, a glass of water had been knocked over, and his phone was on the floor. "Stiles!" Derek whispered. Nothing. He buried his hands in his hair and shook his head. "No, no no no." He whispered. A shuffling sound came from his closet so Derek instinctively aimed his gun at the door. Inching closer and closer he eventually reached the handle. He pushed ever so slightly and suddenly the silence turned into the sound of Stiles screaming against something. Derek slammed the door open and almost passed out at the sight. 4 men dressed in black, one with his hand over Stiles' mouth. Each had a gun pointed at Derek, apart from the one that was holding Stiles. His gun was pointed at the crying boy's head. Stiles' face was wet with tears, and his eyes were locked with Derek's. "Make one fucking move and I'll shoot him in the skull." The man growled. Derek would usually just shoot each one of them, but Stiles' face made him stop. He couldn't risk it. So, he put his gun down on the ground and kicked it behind him. They couldn't call for help, because everyone was too far away to hear. "There's 78 of us waiting outside, so don't think of running for it." One of them said. Stiles struggled against the man's hand until he eventually let him speak. He coughed heavily but didn't say anything. "We thought you'd gone with Daddy Stilinski to London but that incident in the pond earlier gave us a good idea that you weren't." The man said, sounding almost amused. Derek laughed once without humor.   
"Knew somehow you'd fuck it up, Stiles." He sighed, being shoved next to him. Stiles just looked at him in disbelief.   
"Sorry for having some fun-" he went to say more but the gun pointed at his face shut him up.   
"You're going to walk out of this place, casually, not alarm anyone, and meet us at the steps. As I said, 78 of us outside. Don't pull any shit. Get fucking dressed." He said in disgust. Stiles stumbled over to his bed, where a plain long sleeved black tshirt and grey jeans were set out. He took his tank top off and replaced it with the tshirt, same with his sweatpants. One of the men slapped him hard round the face, and although Stiles didn't flinch, Derek did. "Focus." He said in a deep voice. "Steps. You have 45 seconds before we shoot something, or someone." With that, they each swiftly left through the window.   
"Shit, shit, shit, what are we going to do? Fuck, Derek. What are we doing?" Stiles panicked. Derek put a hand on each shoulder.   
"Stiles, if you will do me a favor and don't do any of your shit in the next few minutes, I'd be grateful. You have to trust me right now, and walk. We have about 30 seconds." Derek twisted him round and together they walked out of the room, down the long halls, through the men at their computers, through the large room by the door, and stopped before they went outside. "When I say run, run. Remember where I parked my car? Run to it." He said to Stiles, who was shaking. They walked out to the top of the steps, where the same men were stood. Two of them walked over. "Run." Derek said casually. Stiles hesitated for a split second before running as fast as his legs would carry him to the car. Derek lifted his leg and grabbed the knife that was, as always, tucked in his sock. He slit the throats of the two men before running after Stiles. Gunshots sounded behind him followed by screaming. He reached his car in seconds, turning the car on as fast as he could. The tires screeched on the ground as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Are you okay?" Stiles yelled. Derek didn't answer him, constantly checking the mirror. He sped down the roads, weaving in and out of the cars. 3 cars behind them were catching pace. "Stiles. I need you to go into the trunk. There's a collection of guns in there." Stiles almost said something sarcastic but stopped himself, tumbling into the back seat. Reaching over, he grabbed as many guns as he could. "There's something in specific. It's a rectangle shape, quite thick, like a wedge of money. It has a tag on it. Grab them." Stiles searched manically before his hands landed on the blocks. He picked up as many as he could. Jumping back into the front seat he put them all on his lap. "Good. Now, I need you to focus. Without panicking, can you pull the tag, lean out of the window and throw the blocks at the cars. They'll stick to them, and I have the button to detonate them. Alright?" Stiles had a lump form in his throat but nodded anyway.   
"Alright." He choked out. The window rolled down and Stiles took a deep breath, leaning out. He swallowed hard, pulling the tag, focusing, he threw the block onto the car. It stuck, and he fell back into his seat. "Holy shit." Derek looked over to him, smirked slightly and pushed a button on a tiny remote he held. A huge noise from behind them sounded, explosion after explosion as the cars each caught fire and blew. Stiles swore to himself quietly as he sunk into the seat. He looked in the mirror. No cars had come through the dark smoke cloud. The entire road was blocked with the wreckage. He looked over to Derek who was slightly smiling to himself. "Fucking hell Derek, where are we going now?"   
"I know someone. A guy and his daughter. They'll house us whilst I sort it all out." 

The drive was more or less in silence. No one else came up behind them and the roads were pretty empty. Stiles' shaky breathing had eased and he even cracked a few jokes. Derek was slightly more chirpy than usual, which was confusing to Stiles. He didn't realize that these kind of moments were the only moments in which Derek's constant tension could be numbed almost, apart from showers. They finally pulled into a large driveway that was quite out of the way from anything, including roads. The house was huge. "Just a guy and his daughter, huh?" Stiles asked, nerves almost non existent.  
"It's a big house, yeah. But their family used to be huge and strong. They used to live together."  
"Why aren't they huge and strong anymore?"  
"Long story short, the Aunt ruined everything. A lot of them died and the rest of them left. Chris and Allison are the closest father and daughter I know." They stopped the car and walked to the door. Derek didn't have to knock before a man opened it.   
"Derek." He smiled, pulling him in for a one armed hug. "You must be Stiles?"  
"Oh, uh, yeah." He moved to the side to let them in. A dark haired girl came down the stairs.   
"Hi, I'm Allison." She smiled, the same smile as her Dad. They both greeted her, and made their way to the kitchen. "So what happened?" The dark haired girl asked, full of concern.   
"I don't even know." Stiles mumbled, cracking his neck from side to side. "Some dudes in black just picked me up and hid me in the closet."   
"I heard my door close so I woke up and went straight to his room." Derek nodded towards Stiles. Chris slid a coffee to Stiles and a tea to Derek. "I know you don't like coffee." Stiles snorted remembering earlier. Almost instantly after, Scott phoned Stiles.   
"Scott?"  
"Stiles! Holy shit, what happened?"   
"I don't even know man."   
"Are you alright? Is Derek okay too?"  
Derek mouthed 'don't tell him where we are' at Stiles. "Uh, yeah, we're both good. Look, Scott, I gotta go."  
"Alright man, give me a call if you need me or Malia."   
"I'd only need Malia if I needed advice on how to pretend I have no emotions; but then again, Derek would probably do a better job than her."  
"Derek would also be great at giving you a-"  
"Bye, Scott." With that, he hung up. Allison walked over to the bottom of the stairs. Much more light-footed than Malia.   
"Lydia! Dad made coffee." She called. Derek immediately tensed and looked nervous.   
"Wait, what?" He asked, eyes wide. Footsteps sounded above and down the stairs.   
"Shit, I forgot." Chris grumbled. A red haired girl in a floral skirt and a black crop top came prancing down the stairs in 6ft heels. She walked with such confidence until her eyes landed on Derek. Her mouth parted slightly and she hesitated to move, but eventually willed herself to. She walked to Derek and held out her hand. "Nice to see you again." She plastered on a fake smile. As she moved past him she pulled a face at Chris and he almost shrunk away from the fiery woman. She collected her coffee and walked back to the stairs. "I'm going back to drawing." She said awkwardly.   
"You weren't drawing?" Allison queried. Lydia just gave her a stern look and the dark haired girl knew something was wrong, and followed her upstairs.   
"Why was that so uncomfortable to watch?" Stiles said with an unsure smile on his face. Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Chris interrupted him. "We'll be here all night if you talk. He lost his old special ops job from sleeping with her. She was his boss." He said bluntly, much like Malia would've. Stiles expectedly burst out laughing, almost spilling his coffee multiple times. "Seriously? Pure gold. Puuuure gold that is." Derek raised his eyebrow at him, and Stiles' laughter cut off.   
"Well, look. I have a spare room with two single beds that you can sleep in. It's only 3am, I don't even know why Lydia is awake and in full clothes. Go and rest, I'll wake you up at 7." Neither Derek or Stiles argued with that, and followed Argent up the stairs and into a large, warm room with beds either side. "7AM." Chris assured before leaving. Derek went to walk to the bed on the right side, but out of spite Stiles ran to that bed first. To piss him off. Derek sighed and made his way to the other bed, falling on top of it. It was quiet for a few minutes, before Stiles' voice, huskier with tiredness, awoke Derek again. "You still up?"  
"I am now."  
"I can't believe you slept with that girl." Stiles said, a smile evident in his voice.   
"She's beautiful, and I was stressed. What do you expect?"   
"I don't know man, you just seem like a guy with morals."  
"She wasn't just some fuck buddy Stiles."  
"Well did you love her?"   
"No, not really." It was silent for a while before Stiles spoke again.  
"You slept with Allison too?"   
"No, she's like a daughter to me, for fucks sake."   
"You should still sleep with her, lady killer."  
"And man." Stiles took a moment to process what he meant.   
"What?"  
"I'm bisexual, you fucktard."   
"Really? You strike me as a ladies man."  
"There's nothing wrong with being gay, Stiles."  
"Dude, I know, as I bisexual man too, I know."  
"I don't actually know why it surprises me that you're the same as me."  
"Did you imagine me surrounded by hot chicks eating grapes or something?" Derek actually laughed. Like, not just a chuckle or a sarcastic, humorless laugh. An actual laugh.   
"Goodnight, Stiles." He sighed, turning in his bed.   
"One last thing. Thank you, for, you know."   
"Teaches you for saying you didn't need me. Imagine if I wasn't there, Stilinski. You'd be fucked." Derek almost got goosebumps at the thought. Almost.

 

Back at the White House, everyone was panicking. The gunshots had scared a lot of people, but only a few had noticed the absence of Derek and Stiles. Those that were of highest authority, had decided not to spread the news that they were missing. They wanted to keep it a low profile. The men in black had missed out on the police, and were in their house a few miles away. And they were angry, furious even. "We need to find the fucking little scumbag and his guard dog immediately. How could you let this happen, Matthew?" An old man in a very expensive looking chair snapped. The same man that held Stiles at gunpoint stuttered. "I'm sorry, I thought they'd just follow with our plan. I didn't think they'd try to-" the old man shot him in the head before he could go on.   
"Don't fucking fail me, this time." He said, relaxing back into the chair.


End file.
